HER NAME
by sillym3
Summary: Slave Of Las Vegas --- Lady Heather's Box, my interpretation of one event that Sylvie is so sure had happened;


**This is a birthday present for Sylvie. Happy birthday a week early Sensei (It's next week right?). I hope you enjoy reading this. I'm sorry for posting it way too early. I'm sorry for the bad grammar too. :)**

**-- HER NAME --**

_---- I can read anyone who comes here and know they desires, sometimes even before they do._

Her hair was as soft as he thought it would be. Her eyes, from this proximity, were opulence of colors he could barely describe.

"You can always say stop."

And her lips, those full lips, he couldn't pass the time to savor them.

"So can you."

Those three words escaped her and he could only wait for a couple seconds before leaned forward, capturing the object of his desire.

She tasted of cinnamon and mint.

_---- Why do you think I selected china and table linens?_

He stopped for a second before diving back, pursuing a longer and deeper kiss.

She fought him for dominance, giving in for a second only to back away.

He followed her.

_---- I knew you'd like them._

She took a step back, he moved his feet forward.

He felt like an advancing predator as well as a helpless deer being lured into an unknown darkness.

And he liked to feel both ways.

_---- You spend your life uncovering what goes on beneath the surface of civility and acceptable behavior_.

He might have been losing his hearing but something was playing in his head and he could hear it loud and clear.

They slow dance ended in front of a closed door.

He advanced and she had no choice but pressed herself against the door.

He leaned for another treat, another kiss, yet he heard a faint click.

The door was slowly being opened, revealing a room.

Red and burgundy, veil and candles, paintings and flowers, he saw them all. His focus, however, solely reserved for the lady in front of him.

---- _So it's a release for you to indulge in something like high tea; where it seems if only for a moment the world really is civilized_

Somehow, they reached a bed.

Victorian, he noticed the frame.

She sat on the edge, as if a queen in waiting.

He cradled her head, kissing her slowly as they both fell onto the mattress.

A quote, of beauty and desire, was floating under the surface of his mind, yet he could not voice it.

The view beneath him was too enthralling for words to give justice.

Her chest, trapped by the bustier, rose up and down enticingly as she tried to push his windbreaker out of the way.

He smiled, capturing her hands and gently set them down.

He shook his head no and slowly revealed himself to her.

First the windbreaker, then his blue shirt; each was off of him after a slow deliberate process.

He tilted his head, silently asking for permission.

She licked her lips and no word was needed.

The bustier first; his fingers untied the laces up in the front as he kissed her jaw line.

He smiled when she propped herself up on her elbows only to witness him tear open the top.

The smile got wider when his lips and teeth met her hardened nipples.

He played and teased, he bit and he licked, knowing well that pain was nothing to her.

Yet she purred and he felt so proud of himself.

Once he thought it wass enough and once the bustier was off he moved for the skirt, slowly bunching it up her waist before tugging it down and off of her.

And he didn't forget to deliberately brushing his palms against her smooth thighs.

Now, only in panties and boots, she was all his to taste.

He started with her nose and lips, kissing them now and then.

Then there was this arc of kisses and bites, down from her jaw line to her navel.

He thought of restraining, silks or handcuffs he knew hidden somewhere in this room.

But it was another side of him he didn't need to show.

She read him like an open book. Now it was time for him to read her.

And when his nimble fingers reached the apex of her thigh he knew.

It was tentative bites she liked.

It was soft kisses that brought out her moan.

With that knowledge he stood up, divesting himself of his shoes and the remaining of his clothes.

He kneeled between her legs, slowly untying the laces that held her panties together.

Then he looked up at her, asking another silent question.

She nodded and he hovered above her.

Both closed their eyes when the connection was made.

He started slowly, she responded cautiously.

Then as if something had unknowingly snapped, they moved in abandon. A rhythm of slow and quick pace was playing and they danced to it.

She would rise her hips up and he would ground down, both in sync.

He kept his hands on the mattress and she kept hers above her head. No one needed to be controlled, no restrain needed.

There was this beauty laid in front of him and there was this urge sitting low in his belly.

He was almost there.

_Almost._

But it felt like something hold him behind, someone else filled his mind.

_---- The most telling thing about anyone is what scares them_

He closed his eyes, expecting to see Heather's eyes behind his lids, but it wasn't her image that appeared.

He sped up; he grounded hard, wanting the release.

_So close_.

_---- You can't accept what that I might know what you really desire because that would mean that I know you_.

He grunted and opened his eyes.

Heather was smiling up to him.

"It's… ah… okay…." She panted, touching his cheek. "Say…her name."

_---- Something, for whatever reason, you spent your entire life making sure no-one else does._

"Sara…."

It was a whisper, barely reached his failing hearing, yet the echo reached his heart, drumming against his chest.

He collapsed with a single drop of tear on his cheek.

**EnD**

**Thank you for giving this fic a chance. Some people might want to throw pineapple at me right now but I hope they only do it after reviewing :) **


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